I was lucky enough to live near a large field with a brook running through it. It had some sort of horizontal raised pipe going across it which was great for walking across and I frequently fell off resulting in a soaking. There was a rope swing which also led to a soaking on may occasions. Parts of the brook widened out and was wonderful for catching sticklebacks and putting them in a jam jar full of water. Frogs could be hunted (and then observed but never touched). The five-bar gate into the field was used for a variety of gymnastic moves and the flat sides of the road bridge made a great seat and was the natural choice when choosing somewhere to eat a bag of chips on days when my pocket money lasted that long. There were flowers to pick (Mum often got a bouquet of Wild Garlic and never complained about the smell) There were trees to climb and grass to sit on, as long as you avoided the cow-pats. It was a marvellous place to meet your friends and despite two or three parks in the vicinity, it was always our playground. Happy days.